Concussion
by Okami Nobuye
Summary: After receiving a hit to the head, Kenshin begins seeing one of his victims from the Bakamatsu. Has the undead really come to haunt him, or is everything not as it seems? And with the blow affecting his senses, can Kenshin defeat a foe who seems as strong as he? Rated T Teen for violence and blood.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note- This story was published 8/25/12 in light of the Rurouni Kenshin live action film's theatrical release. Yay!_

_I do not own anything Rurouni Kenshin related and in no way wish to infringe on the copyright. _

1865, Kyoto (First year of Keio)-

The assignment was simple: guard the Ishin Shishi spies. Be sure they were not discovered. Somehow nothing is ever quite that easy, though. War was never that easy, and it seemed the world knew nothing else. Whether here in Japan, or in the Western countries disputing slavery, war was inevitable.

Two lavender eyes flew open beneath the moonless sky. Their owner took in a deep breath, steadying himself. He was quite used to late nights guarding his fellow rebels. The agitation he felt did not come from that, nor from the blood he was likely to spill again. No, it came from the fools ahead of him. The two spies, walking casually about the streets in convincing peasant guise were whispering continuously...about him.

Himura was used to rumors. He'd been the victim of them since joining the Choshu faction. What irked him was how they went on about it in the middle of a job...and in front of him, no less! He sighed, ignoring the desire to leave them, and moved soundlessly to a different patch of shadows for a closer view. His eyes wavered over the scene, scanning for any sign of...

There! Movement! His feet flew from his hiding place as he spotted an armored hand behind his wards. The attacker was too large for his normal attack. He had to be over seven feet without the Sengoku armor. The hitokiri bolted right at the giant, slamming his small frame into the other man. His sandals skidded on the street as his opponent hit the ground.

The armor clad stranger leaped to his feet, two wakizashis drawn. Himura crouched, hand on his hilt. Seemingly, the man had no training, Himura mused. For, he stood straight with the swords angled away. Yet, the masked man appeared, as far as the hitokiri could tell, at ease. It was clearly a ruse. He was better trained than he was letting on. The redhead's eyes narrowed. He couldn't read his soon-to-be-victim's movements with that hideous mask on.

The giant laughed. "The Shinsengumi send out wolves, but all the Ishin Shishi have to offer are scrawny women."

Himura fought back an eye twitch. "You are neither Shinsengumi, nor a Bakufu samurai," he bit, ignoring the man's jest.

The mask tilted down, revealing a set of midnight eyes as he charged, wakizashis spinning. Himura drew his sword, blocking one blade and ducked to avoid the other. His sword whipped about, slamming into the man's double blades. The Goliath slashed pointlessly, and Himura skirted away. Another blow took him by surprise and he narrowly escaped it by slipping between the idiot's legs. The redhead's breath caught as his hakamas caught on something and he pivoted to find one of the short blades pinning him to the dirt below them.

The other silver blade came down with a heavy thud and Himura rolled aside. The band holding his long hair severed, as did the small man's pant leg as he tore away from the imbecile's grasp. He glanced over where the spies had been. They'd run off. At least he didn't have to worry about them getting caught between blows.

The big man covered his field of vision and blocked the obvious escape routes. Himura knelt, fingering the wrapped hilt in his hand. His hand slid along the glistening blade and his eyes locked with his victim's. "I'm done playing with you," he crooned. "Now, accept your death."

He could almost swear he saw the man's eyes crinkle from a smile, but then it was gone. "Likewise," the monster growled.

Himura lunged, the silver striking at the man's neck. Both men toppled to the ground, the mask falling askew and the red-toned locks flying. Himura rose to stand atop his victim's chest. A stream of blood pooled around them. He could hear people coming closer. He'd have to disappear. Still, he stared down at the beast of a man, pondering why a ronin would attack him. It wasn't like he was famous or anything. He was forgettable. Just another bloodstained face in the war. So who would hire a wandering samurai to dispatch him?

The red-haired young man hopped down and walked away. Footsteps approached and the hitokiri broke into a run. His hand went to his belt where he'd hidden a rag to wipe the blood from his katana. His hands fingered at air. He cringed, secretly reprimanding himself for dropping the cloth. He slipped underneath a porch as a group of samurai ran passed. His gaze followed them as they turned a corner and headed toward the fallen warrior.

The hitokiri peered down at the blood soaked metal and gently licked it clean, smearing red across his lips. He'd clean it properly when he'd finished the mission. His eyes watered and he held back a gag before stepping out onto the street once more, sheathing the katana. His feet pulled him forward, thrusting him once more into the shadows. All he had to do now was catch up with the scouts and make sure they returned safely.

He cast one more glance behind him, making sure he hadn't been seen, and then dashed back into the shadows from whence he'd come.

_Someone made an interesting point in one of Concussion's reviews. Why didn't Kenshin just wipe the blood on his clothes? Why lick it? After all, he was usually covered in blood. Note, though, Kenshin wasn't splattered by blood when he murdered the ronin. If he had been, then it wouldn't be a big deal. However, since he wasn't blood covered, he had an advantage to sneak away. Someone blood covered would attract attention if spotted. So, he needed to clean his sword quickly. Without cloth the easiest ways to get it off would be: A-water, or B-saliva. He had no water, so... yeah, I know that's gross. My apologies. -Okami Nobuye_


	2. Chapter 1

1878, Tokyo (11th Year of Meiji)-

The smell of freshly laundered clothes wafted in the summer breeze along with another unforgiving stink. Himura Kenshin lifted his familiar redhead to the blue sky and breathed it in as he lay beneath it. He knew both scents well. His hands were still pruned from washing his sweet landlady's kimono. He hadn't even bothered to dry them, and as he pushed himself into a sitting position, dry clumps of dirt clung to them.

The stink came from something he was extremely used to: blood. From where the scent wafted, though he couldn't be sure. All he knew was it was nearby, and the idea frightened him. He rose to his feet and raced to the dojo's front door, throwing it open. The large room was empty but for one student, Myojin Yahiko. The nine year-old paused mid-swing and lowered his shinai. "Something wrong, Kenshin?" he asked.

The man blinked, realizing the boy was perfectly fine. "Have you seen Kaoru-dono?" he countered.

The lad scratched his head. "Sure. She said she wanted to take a bath..."

Kenshin inwardly apologized for leaving his friend hanging. He bolted from the room, throwing up a cloud of dust in his wake. Mentally, he made a note to sweep the porch when he found the chance. His sandal flew off his foot and he raced with only one to the bath.

His landlady's voice carried out the barred window of the bath house. The man skidded to a halt as he listened to her sweet tone-deafed singing. His lip curled up in a half smile as he accepted that she was perfectly fine. The blood seemed closer, though. He sunk down against the wall, sighing dejectedly. Perhaps it was just in his head. So often, it had been.

His fingers unconsciously traced the cross-shaped scar on his cheek. He'd been foolhardy to think he could escape war with only a few marks on his body. The majority of the damage was internal. It wasn't something that he'd ever be free of, but something he'd grown accustomed to, nevertheless.

His eyes flicked down at his bare tabi, thinking he should probably go collect his sandal before he completely ruined the white sock. Kaoru would have a fit and insist she buy him a new pair. As far as Kenshin figured, he was more than enough trouble for sweet Kaoru as it was. Her song quieted above him as he propped himself into a standing position and her voice carried out to him, "Kenshin, are you out there?"

"Yes, Kaoru-dono. Do you need anything?"

There was a pause and a soft splash. "No."

Kenshin hobbled away, smiling slightly as he did. Just being near Kaoru was a breath of fresh air to him.

"Kenshin?"

He stopped. "Oro?"

He expected the question before Kaoru vocalized it. "How long were you listening?"

Kenshin's smile grew. "Not long at all, Kaoru-dono."

"Oh."

Kenshin cast a glance back at the darkened window and froze. Flecks of red had smeared against the bath house. He hurried back and ran his hand over the sticky stain. It was real. The blood coated his fingertips and he gaped awkwardly at it. It could only have come from him. After all, he'd just been sitting there mere seconds ago.

His hand flew to the back of his gi and made its way up his spine until it reached a moist spot on his head. Kenshin blinked. He was bleeding, but from what? He couldn't recall injuring himself today.

Actually...

He scowled, trying desperately to remember why he'd been on the ground while doing laundry. He hadn't just been kneeling like usual, he'd been flat on his back. Since when? Had he fallen? Had something hit him?

Ignoring his lack of sandal, he hurried over the laundry. The bucket of suds had yet to be emptied and curiously the dirty laundry had yet to be washed. Kenshin frowned and wandered back onto the porch, seeking the comfort of his room. The door stuck a little as he slid it open. He'd have to fix that as well. He had few possessions, and the room appeared predominantly naked. Kaoru had set a cabinet inside for him to store things, but apart from an extra set of clothes, it was untouched.

He immediately went to the corner, where he laid his sakabato and sorted through its care kit until he found a cleaning cloth. He hated staining these. It reminded him of his days as a hitokiri, but it was better than dirtying Kaoru-dono's cloths. His hand encompassed the white rag and he winced as he held it to the back of his noggin.

A knock at his door made him jump and he nearly dropped it. The redhead blinked stupidly as he hastily hid the bloody cloth behind his back. "Oro?"

"Kenshin?" he relaxed at the sound of Kaoru's voice.

"Yes, Kaoru-dono?"

"Can I come in?"

Kenshin blushed at the thought of having dear Kaoru in his bedroom and stepped out, instead. She smiled lightly as he closed the door and faced her. Even with dripping hair, she looked like an angel. "Kenshin, were you planning to finish the laundry or do you need help?"

Kenshin returned that smile, hoping it was convincing. "Oh, no! This one seems to have gotten distracted. I'm sorry, Kaoru-dono. I'll finish that right away."

He went to brush past her, but Kaoru blocked him. For such a tiny woman, she certainly was intimidating. "Distracted?" she huffed. "Distracted by what?" Her eyes narrowed. "Did the police show up, again?"

"Oro?"

Kaoru crossed her arms. "Well?"

Kenshin laughed. "Nothing like that, Kaoru-dono." He folded the rag and shoved it into his obi as he sidled away from her. Kaoru grabbed his sleeve and stared. The redhead paused, unnerved by her attention. "Kaoru-dono?"

"Kenshin, you're bleeding."

The man exhaled, withdrew the rag, and covered the wound once more. "It's just a bump."

Kaoru's eyes softened, and she steered him down the porch to the kitchen. "Let me help you with that."


	3. Chapter 2

It didn't take long for word of Kenshin's injury to spread through the dojo. Within an hour, Kaoru, Yahiko, and Kenshin's friend, Sanosuke were crowded in the kitchen as Kaoru held a cold cloth to the redhead's cut. Kenshin let out a deep breath, wishing this could have stayed more private. He hated it when things were blown out of proportion, and quite frankly his friends were known for doing just that.

"This is all Sano's fault," Kaoru concluded.

Sanosuke barked, "Mine? Why is my fault?"

The landlady pulled a lock of her hair behind her ear and said, "Isn't it obvious? Kenshin got hurt when you dodged that bucket I threw at you!"

Kenshin glanced from one to the other, desiring to hole himself up in his room. It would be easier than listening to his friends fight over him.

Sanosuke crossed his arms and gave Kaoru a dirty look. "If I'm not mistaken, Missy, it's your fault for throwing that bucket in the first place!"

Kaoru's eyes flashed. "You're the one who used Kenshin as a human shield!" she retorted.

Kenshin attempted to sink into the floorboards as the two proceeded to growl.

Kaoru slapped him. "Hold still, Kenshin!"

"Oro?"

Sanosuke stuck some leftover fish bones in his mouth and chewed, thoughtfully. "Actually, I bet it was Yahiko's fault," he mused.

The boy turned on him. "My fault?" he raged.

Sano shrugged. "Sure. You were the one smacking him around with your shinai this morning."

Yahiko ripped the bones from the young man's lips. "You idiot! Kenshin offered to help me with my training!"

Kenshin shivered as cool water dripped down into his gi. His eyes closed as he tried to block out their arguments. What had caused him to fall? His memory of the incident was utterly blurred. All he recalled was darkness...and a gloved hand.

"This is Kaoru's doing!" Yahiko hollered.

The woman flushed. "What?"

"Yeah," the boy challenged. "You're the one who smacked him into the wall when he smiled at Megumi-san!"

Kaoru turned livid. "Mind your own business!"

Kenshin slammed his eyes closed as though that alone would deafen their shouts. That gloved hand haunted him. He'd seen it before. Why was he seeing it again?

"Kaoru-dono." Everyone stared at Kenshin as he stood, taking the cloth from her hands. "This one's afraid he just slipped and the blame is entirely mine."

Her perfectly shaped lips popped open as he exited the small room. The afternoon light outside brought visions of a dark figure slamming a katana's hilt into his skull. Kenshin carressed the broken skin beneath his hair and studied the laundry nearby. He was right. The wound wasn't his friends' doing. He was used to them pushing him around. No, this was different. Someone had attacked him.

He collected his missing sandal and knelt beside the wash, grabbing one of Yahiko's small gis and dunking it in the sudsy water. Phantoms from his past had appeared later in his life before, so this was nothing new. What confounded him was why. Most sought to fight him because of his history as the Bakumatsu's strongest, but the armor clad samurai from then had had no reason to attack him. He'd been a mere ronin, and Kenshin began to wonder why he'd come to the stranger's attention.


	4. Chapter 3

Kenshin stared into the orange flame glowing atop his candle. Without it, his room would be as black as the sky outside. Kaoru had done her best to patch him up. It wasn't everyday he was wounded to the head like that. She'd even offered to take him to Megumi, but as far as he could tell, Kaoru's handy work would be fine.

He touched the tender area, thoughtfully. The fog in his mind was beginning to lift and he could make out more and more of the incident. He'd been scrubbing one of Kaoru's kimonos. Much to her distress, she'd spilled sauce on it during supper, and so Kenshin had promptly offered to wash it. Right as he had thoroughly removed the stain, he'd heard a rustling in one of the bushes by the fence.

He'd gotten to his feet and retrieved his sakabato from the porch. As soon as he turned his back, a shadow had covered him and he'd spun to find a man in Sengoku period armor. He'd reached for the sakabato's hilt, but the masked man had been quicker. The black sword's hilt slammed into Kenshin's forehead and he'd fallen backwards, smashing his head against the porch and passing out.

Presently, Kenshin rubbed it, apprehensively. He didn't know anyone who could sneak up on him, and forget drawing a sword faster. He'd become known for that in the later years of the Bakamatsu, after all.

The armor was the same. There was no mistaking the man he'd fought all those years ago. But how had he survived? Kenshin had personally slit his throat. Was that why he'd come after him? To settle some old fight that had happened in the heat of war. Kenshin didn't think so, but then, what?

The candle flickered and the sound of Yahiko's snores greeted his ears. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't get used to sleeping in a bed. So many years of sleeping under the stars had ruined him. He sat up and hugged his knees, grimacing. Yet another sleepless night at his favorite dojo.

His socks slipped a little on the polished floor as he snuck across his room and wandered outside. He yawned and sat at the edge of the porch, listening to the cicadas' song. Behind him one of the doors slid soundlessly open and a pair of soft feet stepped out into the night.

"You should be in bed, Kaoru-dono. That you should," he coaxed.

Kaoru pulled her yukata closer and sat beside him. Kenshin stared fixedly at his knees, avoiding looking at her small hands or the way the gown fell perfectly on her small frame.

"Is your head hurting you?" she whispered.

He shook his head and instantly regretted it as a sharp pain stabbed through his brain. "I'm fine, Kaoru-dono. That I am."

Kaoru clasped her hands and stared up at the stars poking out here and there between the cloud cover. "It looks like it's going to rain. Are you going to be out here long?"

Kenshin couldn't help it. He met her sapphire eyes and melted. "No, I just needed some air." With a smile, he said, "Thank you, Kaoru-dono."

She blushed. "Kaoru. You needn't be so formal with me, Kenshin."

He remained silent as she got up and shuffled back to her doorway. "Good night, Kenshin."

"Good night, Kaoru-dono."

Kaoru shook her head and disappeared, closing the door.

Kenshin took a deep breath and went back to his room. He needed to sleep at some point or another. The candle still burned as he slid the door shut and sat atop his mattress. His hand brushed the sakabato's sheath and he stopped.

A small sheet of paper stuck out beneath it. His brow furrowed, recalling how it hadn't been there previously. His eyes studied the room, making sure he was still alone before lifting it and reading the scribbled note.

MEET ME IN THE BAMBOO FOREST AT MIDDAY. COME ALONE.

The man's eye twitched. That psychopath had been in his bedroom. How? He'd only been a few feet away. How could he not have noticed an armored samurai sneak into his private room? Clearly, this ronin was more than Kenshin had suspected. He crinkled the note in his fist and lit it over the candle, watching it burn into nothingness.

There was no sense scaring his friends over someone who was seriously unhinged.


	5. Chapter 4

By the next day, everyone at the dojo was convinced Kenshin was back to his normal self. He finished his chores early and Kaoru found herself perplexed as he insisted he had some errands to run.

"But we were going to go the Akabekko," she complained. "Kenshin, we've been planning this all week."

Kenshin grimaced. He'd forgotten that. "I'm sorry, Kaoru-dono. I'll have to make it up to you."

She sighed and marched over to her pupil. "Yahiko, you'll have to be my dinner date," she commanded, dragging him by the sleeve to the gate.

"What do you mean?" he roared. "I don't want to go on a date with you, ugly!"

Kenshin beamed as he watched the two of them go at each other like cats and dogs. It was an act, he knew, their own special way of showing affection towards each other. He waited until they'd vanished down the street before sneaking off. Hopefully, this would be quick so he wouldn't have to explain his tardiness to poor Kaoru.

His pace quickened as he neared the outskirts of town and he continuously peered over his shoulder as he entered the forest. The bamboo towered over him as he gripped the sakabato tightly. Somewhere nearby a crow cawed and took flight, rustling the leaves. Suddenly, Kenshin felt he understood what his victims in the war had felt before he struck.

Cold sweat dripped down his spine and his body poised, ready to strike. The sun beat down on his head and the gash on his cranium ached. "What do you want with me?" he called.

Another crow flew out over head, this one within sight and a deep laugh echoed in Kenshin's ears.

"Himura Battosai," the voice purred, and then cackled once more.

Kenshin shivered and looked around him, waiting for the first blow. "You're the ronin," he thought out loud. "What do you want with me?"

No answer.

The redhead took deep breaths, controlling his nerves as the masked man breathed his name again. "Himura Battosai."

Kenshin felt a tickle in his ear and spun around, still very much alone. "My name is Himura Kenshin!" he spat.

"Himura Kenshin Battosai," the voice carried in the wind. "Battosai Kenshin. Two in one. One in the same."

Kenshin felt his heart rate speed up. His ability to detect others around him was nulled. He was alone in that forest. The only person around was himself. The voice came like a ghost.

"Show yourself!" Kenshin hollered.

The black mask materialized before him. "Are you sure that bump isn't affecting your head?"

Kenshin jumped back, his heart racing. Where had he come from? Why hadn't he seen him?

The maniac howled with laughter and unsheathed his wakizashis, swinging them in parallel succession at Kenshin's head and stomach.

The redhead flipped backward, bouncing off the bamboo and drawing his blade. His eyes went to lock on his adversary only to find he'd disappeared again. He landed several feet forward on his feet, panting heavily. That laughter trailed him. "Why do you swing at something that's not there?"

Kenshin's eyebrows knitted together. His eyes moved over the path. Again, he appeared alone. This enemy came unseen and left the same way. A foot stuck out suddenly below him and he tripped, falling to one knee. The sakabato whirled, but his attacker was no longer behind him.

"Above," the voice whispered.

His head shot up and his eyes widened as the samurai, darkened in the sun's glare, arched his sword perfectly as only a practitioner of Hiten Mitsurugi could. There was no mistaking Kenshin's own technique, Ryutsuisen. His jaw dropped and he rolled out of the way as the samurai unleashed his blow, slamming a katana into the forest floor.

The redhead hopped to his feet. The ronin was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

By the time he'd trudged back home, Kaoru had beat him there. She smiled in her usual way as he opened the gate and stepped inside. "Oh, there you are, Kenshin!" she trilled. "Have you finished your errands?"

Yahiko strode by, lugging a water bucket. "He wouldn't be here if he wasn't," he snapped.

Kaoru swatted him with her bokken.

Kenshin stared blindly as the yard around him became unfocused. He shook his head, sending pain through his skull, and looked at Kaoru. Her smile returned immediately and she offered, "Do you need anything? I could get you something to drink."

A faint smile touched his own lips. "This one would appreciate it."

She grinned and took off across the yard to the kitchen. Kenshin's smile faded. Kaoru appeared to swirl and he swore suddenly there was two of her. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the dizziness away. Yahiko's voice broke the silence. "Kenshin?"

The redhead met his young friend's troubled gaze and waited for him to say it.

"You're still going to help me with training today, right? You promised."

It was Yahiko's way of checking on him. If he would still help, then Kenshin was alright. If not, then the boy would know something was up. Kenshin sighed. "This one did promise, didn't he?" he murmured.

Yahiko beamed. The poor kid never saw Kaoru stalking up to him, an empty cup in her hand. "Yahiko!" she raged. "You stole the water bucket!"

The boy flushed. "What are you talking about? You told me to wash the porch, remember?"

"I told you to do that an hour ago! What have you been doing all this time?"

Kenshin tried unsuccessfully to sneak away without their notice, but Kaoru spied him anyhow. "Kenshin? Where are you going?"

"This one's changed his mind about the water, Kaoru-dono," he slipped his hand behind his head and rubbed the bump. "I'm sorry for the trouble, that I am."

Kaoru's jaw dropped and he could feel her eyes follow him until he slid his bedroom door shut between them. He fell to his knees and watched the tatami mats move beneath him. He slammed his eyes shut, willing himself not to puke.

Something hissed in his ear. "Murderer."

His eyes flew open. The room had stabled itself, but something was still out of place.

"Over here!"

Kenshin looked about. The Sengoku mask flashed before him and he stumbled back into the door. His hand went to the sakabato's hilt, but he found himself alone once again. If he stayed in front of the door, this menace wouldn't be able to threaten Kaoru-dono or Yahiko. All he had to do was block the exit.

The air hung heavy as he waited, but the samurai seemed to have escaped through the walls. Kenshin panted hard, and his hands shook. He barred his teeth and gripped the sakabato, ready to draw.

"Murderer."

The surrounding air grew cold at the sound of that. Kenshin bent his knees, prepared to lunge, but the ronin was playing with him. He was being taunted by a madman.

A soft knock broke his concentration. Kaoru's innocent voice wafted in through the door. "Kenshin? Are you alright?"

He swallowed, still eyeing the empty room suspiciously. "Yes, Kaoru-dono. This one just needs some rest."

There was a pause before she replied. "Okay. If you need anything, Yahiko and I will be training."

The porch creaked beneath her as she walked away. Kenshin's eyes widened as the ronin stepped into view at last. "Do you plan to protect her forever? Someone like us has only brought pain and death."

Kenshin snarled. "Us? This one is no longer a hitokiri. This one's Himura Kenshin, a rurouni!"

The samurai raised his katana and smacked the blunt side into Kenshin's head. The man crumpled and dropped to his hands and knees. The katana aimed at the redhead's neck. Kenshin dove at the stranger's legs, knocking him to the ground as well. Both men jumped to their feet, swords sheathed and ready to strike.

Both made the same stance.

Kenshin blinked as the ronin emulated his battojutsu beautifully. It was as though the ronin was mirroring him. They froze, entranced by this revelation. Then, they charged.

Simultaneously, the men unsheathed their weapons and launched themselves forward. Kenshin expected the sound of the steel to reverberate through the room, but they never touched. The samurai dissipated, and Kenshin found himself stumbling into the wall.

That laughter rang loudly.

The redhead shuddered, whipped back around, and slashed at his opponent again.

Again, the ronin laughed. It was a game to him, a stupid childish game.

Kenshin whirled the sakabato back and plunged it straight for the armored head. The helmet was knocked off and the mask went askew. Both men stopped.

The samurai snickered and grabbed hold of the drooping face mask. "What are we going to do with you, Battosai, when you can't even handle yourself?"

Kenshin's stomach dropped and his breath caught as the mask was removed. It clattered to the ground and the two were left staring into the other's face. Kenshin trembled. It wasn't possible, but there it was. He was staring into a face he knew only too well. His own.


	7. Chapter 6

There was no mistaking whom Kenshin faced in his bedroom. He could easily make out the cross-shaped scar beneath the congealing blood. Battosai had come to haunt him. Both swords raised, one bloodstained, the other sporting a reversed blade.

Kenshin and his past both winced and the blades swung, batting each other away. They whipped them back and struck again, flipping backwards to avoid a blow that never came.

Both redheads glowered at the other. The sight of his younger self was frightening. He had a crazed look about him and every time the katana moved, it sprayed red behind it.

Over and over, Kenshin thrust his sakabato at his mirrored self, but the youth copied him unnaturally well. Each hit was useless. It would be impossible to land a hit, Kenshin realized, while one mimicked the other. He sat cross-legged on the floor and sheathed the sakabato, closing his eyes and waiting.

"Battosai." The whisper marred the quiet.

His sword whipped around and he heard a definite clang as it struck...the wall. He scowled, knowing all too well he'd just created more work for himself. He jolted as something whacked him in the back of the head. Instinctively, he jumped to his feet and faced the ghost, but his vision flickered from the blow.

Battosai's phantom smirked as Kenshin felt the ground beneath him move. "Interesting," the anomaly cooed. "It seems the only thing you could never defeat...is you."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed as he focused on the other redhead. "Then, the same could be said for you."

The room darkened and then came back into view. Both figures made their stance, poised and ready to attack. Kenshin's hand grasped his hilt and took a shuddery breath. This would be his last chance. His body was about to collapse. Still, maybe, just maybe if he could read himself...read his movements...

Unanimously, they darted forward. Battosai arched his arm, slashing at Kenshin's side. The redhead dodged and whirled the sakabato after the back of his ghost's head. The phantom ducked and lunged the bloody katana forward. It skimmed the man's red gi and splattered blood over it.

The air around them grew black. Kenshin shivered, fighting back against it. He could hear noises. Someone was coming closer. He shook his head and the light streamed back into the room. Battosai jeered at him, as he crouched atop the cabinet.

The sakabato slid noiselessly back into its sheath. Perhaps, it was true that he'd never defeat himself in a fight. It was a good thing none of this was real.

Kenshin leaped forward, as did Battosai. The sakabato scraped against the red-coated katana, and then ducked to land a hit on the ghost's leg. Battosai smacked his hilt into Kenshin's forehead. The man stumbled but blocked the killing blow from his younger self. With Battosai so close, Kenshin rammed his forehead into the other's. Both men fell.

Kenshin's world grew dark and he felt himself fall.

0_r_0_r_0_r_0_r_0

When he'd finally come to, Kaoru's shining face was all he could see. She was kneeling with his head on her lap and the thought that she was so close made him blush. "Kaoru-dono..." She stopped him with a finger to his lip.

"I knew you were hurt," she spoke gently. "I should have made you stay in bed."

Kenshin scratched his head, feeling sparks of pain streak throughout it. Still, he smiled. "I'll be alright, Kaoru-dono. That I will."

His eyes cautiously scanned the room. Battosai's ghost was gone and after receiving that last bump on the head, Kenshin had a feeling it wouldn't be coming back. The cause of his injury flooded back to him as the clouds in his head dissipated. The redhead could easily recall the slippery hemp soap under his foot. The thought that this had all started because he'd slipped on a bar of soap was laughable.

Kaoru's eyes crinkled as her smile broadened. Yahiko raced into the small bedroom, carrying a water bucket. "I've got it!" he called.

The bucket went flying, spilling its contents over the couple and hitting Kenshin in the forehead.

"Oro?"

The boy cringed. "Sorry, Kenshin."

The redhead strangely smiled as Kaoru spouted death threats. Everything was back to normal.

_My apologies that it ended so abruptly. I tried to convey it as best as possible and have even updated it to reflect more. For anyone who is confused, Kenshin slipped on a bar of soap (I wanted to do something rather silly and ironic, considering the poor man's being bashed around so much by his friends. I figured something would give him a concussion sooner or later). Seeing Kaoru's face at the end, rather than the distorted Battosai was what made him realize everything was going to be okay. Again, sorry about the abruptness. -Okami Nobuye_


End file.
